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She laughed, and then the door flung open. I found her standing there, looking at me, as her phone dropped to her side. “Would you stop loitering in my driveway and just get inside?”
I ended the call and shoved my phone back in my pocket, taking a moment to look at her.
Her dress wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was the first time I’d seen her in anything but jeans and leggings. It was black and simple with long sleeves and a soft, velvety fabric.
And so fucking short.
My mouth went dry.
She must have noticed my silent perusal because a faint smile crept across her face as she nervously shifted her weight to one hip. “Are those for me?”
I looked down at the flowers I’d agonized over for the good part of an hour. “Apparently, I buy them a lot,” I answered.
“What can I say?” She laughed, holding her hands up at her sides. “You’re a really good boyfriend.”
“You’re going to ruin my hard-earned reputation,” I joked as I followed her into the house.
“Oh, right.” She grinned, taking the flowers in her hands. I watched her admire them, and a faint blush fell across her cheeks. Was she thinking about that story she’d made up too? “Because if you don’t have a long-standing feud with the town doctor, life isn’t worth living?”
“Exactly,” I mused.
“Was it Molly?” she casually asked as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a vase. She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep her expression neutral as her eyes lingered on the etched glass a bit too long.
Yeah, she was definitely thinking about it.
She finally glanced up. “Is that why you hate each other? Did you, like, try to steal her away? Or did he steal her from you?”
“What?” I scoffed, taking a seat at her island. “No. I was never with Molly.”
“Oh, but you wanted to?” She turned her head and placed the vase on the counter, staring at it a bit too long. She unwrapped the flowers and began arranging them one at a time.
“Maybe. For a minute when I was young, but it wasn’t anything serious. Not like?—”
You.
I gulped, averting my eyes, and then swiftly changed the subject. “You ready?”
“Oh, um, yeah,” she answered, glancing at the vase one last time. “I just need to grab my purse.” She walked toward the living room but then double backed. “Oh, and the wine. Oh, I grabbed some soda, just in case—” Her words halted, and she looked at me with a mixture of embarrassment and guilt.
She’d bought the soda for me…
God, why did I have to be such a fuck up?
“I probably should have said something the other day at my house rather than making you guess. I’m sorry,” I said, feeling quite awkward. “I haven’t exactly been social since?—”
“Don’t apologize. And you don’t owe me an explanation.”
I scrubbed a hand down my face. I didn’t like talking about this, but I needed her to know. Maybe I wanted her to know I wasn’t a good guy. Maybe I just wanted her to know me. Either way, she needed to hear it.
“I did not handle Kristy leaving well—the cheating and then the pregnancy.” I winced, deciding to leave out that it had all happened at around the same time as the ferry explosion. “My dad was a drunk, and I soon realized I was walking down a very similar path. When I started hiding whiskey in my desk drawer, I knew something had to stop.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her expression showed no judgment. No pity. Just warmth.
“I’m not very proud of it,” I answered, remembering all the times when I had been a kid that I begged my dad to stop. All the times I’d sworn I’d never be like him. And yet…
“Look at us, son.” He had held up his drink in a grand salute. “Like two peas in a pod.”
I stifled a shudder.
